


The Golden Rays of Night

by ladyofstardvst



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Mystery and Intrigue, aka unedited FUN, and WINGING IT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22261081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofstardvst/pseuds/ladyofstardvst
Summary: its all fun and games dealing in secrets, until the mandalorian arrives.
Relationships: Din Djarin x reader, The Mandalorian x reader
Kudos: 37





	The Golden Rays of Night

**Author's Note:**

> something different because i really like the idea of dealing in secrets.

Secrets were no stranger to you.

They made it a hobby to weave into your words, your body, your soul. They made themselves your way of life.

You dealt in them, the secrets you collected, like others dealt in the more savory side of the trading world - the welcoming, more _legal_ side of things. The law had never been a friend to you, but the shadows always had been, so the shadows were where you remained.

Even though you were one and the same with the darkest parts of the city – the underworld, if you will – those who sought out certain secrets of a certain someone . . . you wouldn’t remain hidden from them for long. The whispers always told them where to find you. _How_ to find you. Because your time was precious, your information invaluable, and your presence was only granted to those who were worthy of it.

Rarely, was there anyone as worthy as you’d like.

And then the Mandalorian arrived.

Your whispers told of his arrival, slithered around your shoulders in the darkness as they spoke of who he was looking for. Someone hidden, someone dwelling deep within the darkest reaches of your home world. Someone who really did not want to be found.

Someone just like you.

The Mandalorian, however, begun to win your favor when you let him slip past your defenses, let him find you on the rooftop where you conducted your business. It varied, where you carried out your work, but it was always on a clear night, under the vast expanse of the sky – your one and only witness.

It was warm, the night you met with the bounty hunter, with stars spread out above you like a celestial blanket embracing you with beauty. The moon was full and its presence a comfort as it shed it’s light – cool and unforgiving – at the infamous Mandalorian when he faced you, open and honest with what he wanted and why.

Guild codes, survival rates, mouthfuls of other useless information you heard a dozen too many times before. Answers that whispered _unworthy_.

“And _what_ ,” you spoke slowly, words ripping the air between you with a tone sharp as any famed, vintage blade. “About you?”

The bounty hunter paused, the beginnings of a slow, syrupy thick tension welcomed him with open arms. His beskar flashed under starlight, as his helmet tilted ever so slightly to one side.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he answered, clear and calm and mechanical.

A smile graced your lips; one you wore so often, it felt like a mask. It wasn’t hostile, _no_ , more amused than anything, how others always felt an exchange like this one would go. They expected it to be just like the others they’ve had, no doubt: request, granted, payment, retreat.

The details would always be blurry, but the skeleton was always the same.

You were not like the others.

“Not many do, at first,” you said, tipping your eyes up to the stars. They found constellation after constellation in the navy-black void of the cosmos. There was deep veined violet hidden among the stars, if one knew where to look; a part of the galaxy’s edge wove itself through distant stars and the fabric of midnight blues and charcoal grays well into the night. “And not many, I find, are worthy to pay the price I require for my services. Maybe, I should say not many are _willing_.”

You answered the call of gravity, brought your eyes back down to meet where you imagine his own would be. _If he_ _still_ had _his_ _original_ _eyes_ _,_ you wondered.

“And what price are you asking?”

The Mandalorian watched as you took a step closer, muscles tensed in case this came to a fight.

“A secret for a secret,” your voice was quiet and close, eyes bright and alert with the thrill of the hunt.

“What kind of secret?” he asked, and you knew he was different. He would be worthy, this Mandalorian, because he wasn’t already trying to bribe the information out of you.

His reputation preceded him, it seemed.

Your smile reappeared, and it was a soft one that bled compliance.

“If I’m to give up the location of who you seek,” you began. “It must be something you deem of equal or greater value, to what you think their life is worth.”

He’s the one to close the distance then, eliminating all trace that it was ever there when you began. The Mandalorian gave up a priceless secret, for a priceless life, because he too, understood that _all life_ was priceless.

In the end, you accompanied him on his hunt. Rarely did you involve yourself with the extended business of your clients, but this one – there was something almost _satisfying_ about this particular bounty hunter passing your tests, fulfilling the required payment in full.

And maybe, if fate allowed, this could be the start of something _more_.


End file.
